


Within these walls

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 15,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Gerald and Harriet are on assignment to investigate strange goings on at Buckingham Palace.
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

'They've cancelled the lectures,' Harriet cried, storming into the hub.

His hand barely twitched from the paper that was held in its firm grip, reading the brief message again. 'There's a war going on, my dear.'

'I know perfectly well there's a war, Gerald,' she huffed. 'That is no reason to shut down the university.'

'I suspect it's the Luftstreitkräfte bombers they are concerned about, rather than the ill-timed pursuits of academia.'

'The wars of the future will be fought by machines and with chemicals,' she stated, shrugging off her coat and hanging it neatly on the stand. 'It will be the physicists who will set the standards of modern warfare.'

'Let's pray rather for no future wars,' Gerald replied.

'You are too much of an optimist, Gerald,' she said, though she meant it in a playful way. She found his temperament endearing for the most part, and not at all hinting that he'd once been military intelligence himself. She expected all military types were straight laced and lacking in any sort of empathy, but Gerald was a far from that as she could imagine. If anything, he was a little too charming.

'Perhaps,' he replied. 'Though your timing is excellent. I've just received a telegram from London.'

Harriet sighed. 'Not another promise to build this underground railway to Bristol, I hope,' she said, settling into the leather chair opposite her superiors’ spartan desk. That much he'd at least retained from his army days, along with the plain clothes and polished shoes.

Gerald laughed. 'I fear that Cardiff's usefulness in the war effort will remain understated.' If anything, he was relieved. Churchill had been mad to think they could have hundreds of labourers working day and night to tunnel under the channel, even with the aid of Torchwood technology, leaving them as the first and last stop. Gerald felt sorry for Lloyd George. Even he couldn't temper his minister's taste for battle.

'And what does London want, then?' Harriet asked. They'd barely heard a word from them since the war had started. Their sole drive had been to develop better classes of weaponry that the allies might use to defend the empire. Only when they had written to London to advise them on artefacts collected in Cardiff did they show any interest. Even then, it was a terse exchange. On several occasions, Harriet had cause glimpses of the letters of reply from Torchwood's London branch. "We appreciate your diligence in these matters, however if you could succinctly state their military value as a matter of priority, it would be appreciated."

At least they were beginning to accept the rift theory that Gerald and Jack insisted upon. It was the only logical explanation for the things she'd seen and the propensity for oddities to occur in the city. She didn't have to be convinced. Jack had told her it was simply fact.

'There's a tear in space and time hovering right over the city,' Jack said. 'Stuff from across all of the universe sometimes slips through. You can't stop it. All you can do is keep an eye on it.' And so that's what they did.

'It's not Torchwood that requests our presence,' Gerald said. 'It's Buckingham Palace.'

'Codswallop,' she said. He handed her the telegram so she could read it for herself. She frowned, looking back up. 'I don't understand.'

'I believe Captain Harkness would call it a hand ball,' he said, leaning back in his chair.

'And Torchwood London have authorised us to attend?' She didn't like getting into the politics. Her interests were purely scientific and there was much to occupy her intellect here.

'We leave on the first train tonight.'

She handed the paper back. 'And will the Captain be joining us?' She hadn't seen Jack for weeks. She was beginning to wonder if this was one of his phases he was going through where he chose not to work for them. He was erratic at the best of times, undeniably good looking, and a shameless flirt, yet extremely knowledgeable, but otherwise he seemed to be a mystery to her.

Gerald's expression was coy. 'Jack has other matters to attend to.' He couldn't tell her that he'd sent Jack on a mission that required him to go undercover in France and that he hadn't heard from the Captain for over two weeks. Death didn't concern him, since Jack couldn't die, but there were far worse things out there.

'Doesn't he always?' Harriet replied. She was hardly disappointed. These weeks together with Gerald, just the two of them had been delightful. She wouldn't deny that she was infatuated with him, even if he was seventeen years her senior and somewhat oblivious to her own interest in him.

Gerald smiled at her. 'I trust that the lack of lectures today will leave you free to prepare for our trip to the capital?'

'Did they make any mention at all of why we've been requested? 'She already had the wording of the telegram committed to memory. It simply stated that His Majesty King George V requested the presence of Torchwood at the Palace as a matter of urgency.

'I called London this morning, just before you arrived. All they would say was that the Palace was reported to be haunted by malicious spirits. London believes we're best placed to handle the matter. I tend to agree.'

'Then I shan't argue with you,' she said, eking another smile out his businesslike demeanour.

'Pack you things, my dear. We're due at the station in an hour.'


	2. Chapter 2

Train travel on troop train services was nothing like the jaunts to the countryside Harriet had taken with her parents when she was a teenager, holidaying in Wiltshire, Norfolk and Blackpool. There'd been fine leather seats and trolley ladies serving tea and biscuits. Now they were piled high with infantrymen and their packs, and there was a raucous sound that filled each carriage as they conversed, played cards and wound each other up.

'Boys off to war,' Gerald muttered. 'They still think it's a game.'

She pursed her lips at his depressing commentary. Three years into the war and still they managed to find more boys to ship off to Europe and Africa. How many might return, and when would this blasted war ever end? She let them have their fun and frivolity, even if it made the journey to London less than peaceful. They'd soon find very little to be jovial about.

It was indeed late by the time their train pulled into London, and later still by the time the cab had dropped them at the Palace gates to be escorted inside. They were brought to the White Drawing Room, though to Harriet's mind, it should have been named the Golden Drawing Room. There was barely an inch of wall not decorated in golden paint and gilt furniture, all the fabrics in a similar champagne hue, and huge lead crystal chandeliers dangling from the centre and corners of the room.

It was further surprising that when the King himself arrived to address them, he was not in full dress, but rather slippers and his nightgown, covered by a luxurious claret dressing gown.

'Your Majesty,' Gerald said, bowing low.

'Your Majesty,' Harriet repeated, curtseying lower than she ever had in her life. All those finishing school lesson her father had insisted upon finally coming into good use.

'A fine thing you coming out so quickly,' the King said.

'Whatever is necessary to serve the Empire,' Gerald replied.

'I trust the journey was comfortable?'

'As comfortable as can be expected, given the circumstances. I take it you've spoken with our London office already?'

'Only to tell them to not waste time and get you here as quickly as possible.'

Gerald was genuinely surprised by that. He'd expected London had foisted this upon them. He never anticipated that he'd been asked for specially. He was hardly popular with London, despite all the good work he'd achieved.

'Who is your companion?' the King asked.

'Your Highness, may I present Miss Harriet Derbyshire. She is my most esteemed colleague.'

'A woman?' he said. Harriet schooled her features. At least he hadn't said girl.

'A self-educated scientist,' Gerald replied. 'Specialising in the field of physics. A finer mind I have not met.' Harriet tried hard not to blush at the effusive description. The King simply accepted it with a slight nod in her direction.

'May I ask, Your Majesty,' he began. 'The telegram we received. What seems to be the problem?'

'Ghosts,' the King said, unstoppering a crystal decanter and pouring out a finger of scotch.

'Ghosts,' Harriet repeated.

He brought the glass to his lips and sipped. 'May is half frantic over the whole business. The world is in chaos and the ladies at court are fussing over nonsense. I want a line drawn under the whole thing as quickly as possible. Seems right up your alley, Gerald.'

'We can certainly take a look,' he promised. 'I imagine the timing is not ideal.'

'Couldn't be worse,' the King replied. 'On top of everything else, I've got the Russian delegation here to negotiate expatriation for the Tsars. David is mad if he thinks I can get the Romanovs out. There's a war going on and he thinks I should turn my attention to a revolution in Russia.'

'They are your cousins,' Gerald commented.

'Half of bloody house Saxe Coburg are cousins and they're on the wrong side of this wretched war. Suppose you support Lloyd George in all this, being a Welshman and all?'

'I serve the British Empire,' he replied. His affinity for the Welsh capital was more to do with serving the needs of Torchwood than it was cross border sympathies. Even after ten years, his appointment was still considered somewhat controversial by those in London. 'I'm an Oxfordshire man, myself.'

'Now I didn't call you here to talk politics, Gerald. I've got ministers enough bleating on at me.'

'Of course, Your Majesty. Might we be able to interview some of your household staff? To get a better understanding of what seems to be the issue.'

'Whatever is required to sort this mess out as expediently as possible. Drag them from their beds if you must.'

Gerald nodded in acquiescence. All the rumours were true that George was a hard taskmaster, and the sort of man that wouldn't suffer nonsense. He was the very antithesis of his grandfather Albert. A sensible man, but one not prone to displays of affection or kindness. It was said that he'd feared his father and that he expected his children to fear him as well.

'We shan’t delay a moment longer, then,' Gerald added.

'Good,' came the abrupt reply, downing the remnants of his drink. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have May sort out her ladies for you. No doubt they're still up, trying to frighten one another with all this silliness.' With that, the King exited the room.

'Harriet, why don't you start with the serving staff whilst I confer with Her Highness and her ladies?'

She stopped dead for a moment. If that wasn't the most sexist thing she'd ever heard. 'I didn't realise that scullery maids were beneath you, Gerald,' barely masking her displeasure.

Gerald barely wavered against her cold stare. 'I understand that women of a certain and age and disposition like to gossip.'

Harriet felt flabbergasted. She set her hands on her narrow hips. 'Women of a certain disposition?'

He laughed at her, which only incensed her more. 'My dear old chap,' he said, grasping her shoulders. 'I meant what I said earlier. You are the cleverest and most remarkable woman I've ever known. I only mean to suggest that they will be far more forthcoming with you.'

She brushed off his hands with as much indignation as she could muster though it pained her to back away from such strong hands. 'Your backtracking needs work,' she replied. 'Jack is becoming a bad influence on you.'

'I'll take that as your acceptance of my apology. Come along. We have work to do.'


	3. Chapter 3

Harriet wasn't enthused at the idea of being relegated to the serving staff, but neither was she about to let the task consume her pride. Instead, she straightened her tie and collar, and followed the staffer down to the kitchen where the staff had been assembled, awaiting the anticipated questioning.

The kitchen was far larger than she expected and the staff sitting around a long wooden table at the heart of it far fewer than she'd imagined.

'Where are all the rest of your staff?' she asked their chief of staff, Mr Fulstom, a thin fellow with a sizable moustache, more white than grey.

'I took the liberty of gathering only those members of Palace staff who have, er,' he coughed, 'apparently witnessed these phantasmagoria. She didn't have to read between the lines to know his own feelings on the matter, and that he wasn't about to drag his faithful serving staff out of their beds on account of some nonsense about ghosts. Only those who wouldn't settle until that matter was resolved would have to stay up into the late hours of evening as Torchwood queried them.

She stood at the head of the table and took in the sight of the people gathered. Gerald it seemed had at least been right in some respects, as the majority of staffers sat there were women of a not dissimilar age to her. Perhaps she was the best person to try and get some sense out of them. It was absurd to think that there were ghosts roaming the Palace halls, however. There was no scientific proof whatsoever that there was anything beyond death. Ghosts were nonsense, though aliens were another matter entirely.

'Thank you all for staying back at this hour. I'm sure you're all keen to have the matter resolved so that you can get on with your day. If I could just ask a few questions.'

'The place is haunted, ma'am,' one girl piped up, before tucking her hands tight inside her pinafore pocket.

'Miss Quinn!' Mr Fulstom chastised.

'Well, it's true.'

'You'll, keep your opinions to yourself unless asked a direct question,' he said, intending to silence her.

'When you say ghosts,' Harriet asked. 'Have you seen them?'

'They're not those kinds of ghosts, ma'am.'

'Then what kind are they?'

'The kind that make noises, rattle around, upend things.'

'If this is about that broken vase again, Ms Quinn,' Mr Fulstom warned.

'I keep telling you I didn't break it. It fell on the floor in pieces when I went in to dust. I was moving to the other side of the room at the time.' She gave a defiant look towards Mr Fulstom. Harriet knew the poor maid's wages would be docked for the breakage, which was no doubt a considerable cost.

Mr Fulstom looked around at the group again and frowned. 'Where is Ms Aldershot?' A few of the staff looked around. 'I specifically asked her to be here, since she was one protesting about this so loudly.'

'Took off if she knew what was good for her,' one of them muttered.

'She's got a sister with two children. She wouldn't leave. Besides,' the woman then clamped her mouth shut as if realising she'd already said too much.

'Besides what?' Harriet asked.

'She just enjoyed her position here is all, ma'am.'

Harriet watched the exchange with curiosity. These serving staff would be paid more than thrice what their counterparts in London could ever hope to receive. It would take something fairly terrible to make them give up such a lucrative position.

'How many have let your employ, Mr Fulstom?' she asked quietly as the arguments around the room continued.

'Three this week. Ms Aldershot will make it four.' He looked annoyed rather than disappointed.


	4. Chapter 4

'Can I leave you with my wife and her retinue?' The King asked as he led Gerald towards an opulent sitting room.

'Of course, Your Highness. I imagine there are pressing matters that require your attention.'

'Well put,' he replied, nodding the two tower guards who'd been charged with attending the entrance to the room. It seemed an extravagance, but then again, they had no idea what they might be dealing with yet. Gerald had seen too many things in his time now to discount anything, even reports of ghosts.

The guards opened the gilded double doors and let him pass through. Seated in a circle of chairs were the Queen and her closest ladies of court. She stood, looking elegant even in what must have passed for nightwear, a long fringed and beaded shawl covering the modesty of the sleeping shirt worn underneath.

'Your Majesty.' Gerald knelt and took her hand. For anyone else, a kiss would have been part and parcel, but even he knew his limitations.

'Mr Carter Kneale. Thank you for coming.'

'I serve the Empire, my Queen.'

'Please take a seat,' she said, offering him a velvet covered chair between two of her dearest friends, five in all having joined her in the room.

'What can you tell me about the goings on here of late?' Gerald began.

'It is strange,' the Queen began. 'Some of the ladies have claimed that they can sense a presence, something watching them. Myself I've not felt that, though there have been strange sounds.'

'What kind of sounds?'

'In the walls. A sort of scratching sound, rather like the sound of rubbing two pieces of parchment together.'

'It could just be rats, skittering in between the walls,' he suggested.

'I dare think not, Mr Kneale. There are no rats in the Palace.'

'Have you heard any other strange sounds?' He looked around the circle, opening the question up to all. They silently shook their heads.

'I know you must think this very strange, Mr Kneale, but it's the children I worry for,' the Queen replied. 'I can't have my ladies and their staff jumping at shadows, and screaming at the tiniest little thing. This business has us all on edge.'

'Well, you've nothing to fear, my Queen,' Gerald said, laying on some of that charm he was so accustomed to. 'Whatever it is, my colleague and I will get to the bottom of it. I would encourage you to speak with us further if you can think of anything else.'

A serving man led him out of the Queen's apartments, but stopped him for a moment as soon as they were out of earshot.

'Of course there are rats in the palace,' he said. 'Those ladies upstairs don't see them. The Queen would be up in arms if she thought there were rats. The whole of London would have to be rid of them.'

'So, you think this is nothing more than a case of vermin?'

'I did. Although, come to think of it, I've not seen any of late, not even in the larder or the laundries.'

'Perhaps the rats are equally disturbed by whatever is here.'

'Then may it stay long. I'd rather have ghosts than rats.'


	5. Chapter 5

'Useless, the whole lot of them,' Harriet said as she marched down the hall to meet back up with Gerald.

'I can't say my own interviews were particularly fruitful either,' he confessed. 'I suggest we set it aside and focus on the physically observable.'

'Agreed.'

The two steamer trunks they'd brought with them on the train from Cardiff had been taken to a state room where they were allowed to conduct their investigations. It wasn't nearly as opulent as the other rooms, but it was still grand nonetheless. Harriet had been indecisive in selecting equipment to take with them since they still had no idea what it was they had come here for. One whole trunk was simply packed with cages and containment units, nets and other things that might be needed if they were faced with something living. The second trunk was much more her forte, full of gadgets and scientific equipment. Gerald had of course ensured they also came armed.

They wouldn't have needed half of this if Jack had been here with them, she thought ruefully. His wrist strap that he wore permanently was a fascination to her, wondering how it worked. He was of course coy about its technology, and it was impossible for her to sneak away with it for closer inspection. It did however do the most wondrous things, analysing all manner of scientific data.

'So, we've got strange sounds in the walls and a sense of being watched,' Harriet said. 'At least it doesn't sound like weevils.'

'I think we would rather know if it was,' he said, though he smiled at her as he said it. It was one of those tender smiles that made her knees go a bit wobbly and her brain temporarily stop.

There was a knock on the door that jolted her from fanciful thoughts.

'Ah, good fellow,' Gerald said, walking across to meet him, taking from him a large rolled up parchment. He walked it back across the room and rolled it out across the mahogany table, using the ornate candlesticks as weights to pin the corners.

'A map of the Palace,' she stated, recognising the rudimentary outline.

'Precisely.' He pulled a pen from his coat pocket, self-inking and a marvel that had come through the rift. He had only to unclip the lid and the ink inside its steel nib flowed freely onto the paper. One of the modern things that had come through the rift, Harriet knew. There had been a whole box of them and Gerald had taken to them immediately, though she still preferred her pencils and typewriter.

Much to her horror, he began scribbling across the beautifully drawn schematic, marking out the residences of all the Palace occupants and staff.

'Do you have those work rosters, old girl?' he asked. She pulled them out of a file Mr Fulstom had given her and set them down next to the map, showing him where the staffers had been posted on their duties and where they had reported anything strange. Those areas he marked on the map also.

'Well,' he said, standing back from his handiwork. 'Our poltergeist has a penchant for the second floor it seems, in this area particularly,' he said, sweeping a large circle around it in ink. 'The private residences. Of course. I suspect many of these rooms will be off limits until the morning, once their occupants are up and about,' he added, though knowing few would be in use at present. Most of the royal court except for those closest to the royal family had already removed themselves to Kensington, or further abroad to other estates. The general feeling was that given the war going on, it would be safer to stay outside of London.

'We can still sweep the drawing rooms and the halls,' Harriet replied. 'Start checking for anomalies.'

'And we will.' He left the table with the map and begin rifling through Harriet's trunk of equipment. She watched as he first slipped his revolver into the empty holster beneath his jacket, and then pulled out a long flat device.

'What do think we might be dealing with here, Gerald?'

He began calibrating the scanner. 'I don't know.'

'It could be an alien entity I suppose,' she said. Though how it had gotten into the Royal Palace was anyone's guess.

'We'll know more once we've done some preliminary fieldwork. I thought I might start with a spectral scan. Eliminate the possibility that this ghost is hiding beyond the visible spectrum.'

'Good idea,' she said. 'I'd like to check the walls and floors for any abnormalities. They did say there have been sounds that appear to come from within the walls.'

'Excellent. With any luck we might be able to smoke them out before morning.' Without a further word, he slipped out through the door and began making his circuit of the affected area.

Harriet pulled a small box out of her steamer trunk, clipping the leather strap in place and settling it about her neck so that the box perched against her abdomen. It wasn't strictly required, since the device that monitored unnatural signals was no bigger than a box of soap. It was however metallic and glowed with a light source all its own. Jack had taught her its basic functions, but the box was to conceal its appearance. Whilst they were modern in so many respects, it helped to appear Edwardian to keep the public at ease. So much of what they did defied common belief, and even the most advanced scientific principles.


	6. Chapter 6

It felt strange to wander the Palace halls, let alone to be doing so at night. She'd expected there to be a guard posted at every door, but the place was virtually empty. The lights had been left on, partly as a courtesy to aid their investigations, and partly because Queen Mary had insisted that the place be lit until the matter was resolved. She wouldn't have any of her ladies in waiting or her handmaidens being terrified of what might be lurking in the shadows.

'If only you could see me now, Mother,' she muttered under her breath, admiring the plush red carpets, the ornate gilding and the priceless artworks that covered the walls. By her nature, she'd never been particularly interested in the usual feminine trappings, but on this occasion it was impossible not to marvel at them. This was the grandest building in all of Britain, perhaps the world.

Hard as it was, she tried to focus on the readings from her device. She was looking for unusual densities in the walls, patches where the temperature was too warm or too cool, or minute sounds emanating from within. Her focus became so intense when she was investigating. There was honestly nothing like a good puzzle, and Torchwood provided her with many and often. It didn't stop her from wanting to continue educational pursuits externally, though the frustration was that the academic community refused to award her the accolades she'd rightly earned. Torchwood at least had no such restrictions.

Harriet slowed her movements, listening out for any sort of sounds like the ones that had been reported, but all was quiet. She cast her gaze at the walls, every inch covered in fine oil portraits of royal figures. Was it hardly a wonder that one felt constantly watched in here, all those eyes casting down their judgments.

'Hello there, miss,' came a voice behind her. Harriet spun to find man standing there. Not just any man, but one of astonishingly good looks. He was clean shaven, with thick dark wavy hair. His coat, which hung down to mid-thigh, was a deep scarlet, but underneath his waistcoat shimmered gold. She'd never been one to flutter her eyes at a man, however handsome, but this one took her breath away.

'I'm sorry. Did I startle you?' the man apologised. His accent was distinctly Russian.

'I just wasn't expecting anyone up at this hour,' she replied, trying to get her heartbeat to slow down.

'Ah, yes,' he said, smiling. 'The rumours of ghosts hunting the Palace apartments.'

Harriet paused to look him in the eye. 'That sounds very much like you don't believe it.'

'I believe there to be a logical explanation for all things in life. Whether we are yet to discover all of those secrets will only be made clear in time.'

Ah, Harriet thought, a contemporary. 'Are you a scientist?'

'Gods be good, no.' He laughed and she liked the sound of it, such a warm timbre, like swallowing a fine whisky, and feeling its heat course through the body. She had thought all Russians were dour and lacking in any sense of humour. 'I fear I only have too much time on my hands for reading. I suspect that is why Nicholas sent me here, to make use of my idle hands,' he replied.

Of course, Harriet thought, remembering the King's words. The delegation here on behalf of the Tsar.

'May I ask what you are doing, miss...?'

'Derbyshire. Harriet,' she said, holding out a hand. 'I'm here investigating these rumours.'

'Ah, so it is you who are the scientists, yes? Your tools are... interesting,' he said, spotting the contraption around her neck. 'What does it do?'

'Searches for ghosts,' she lied, but trying to be funny also.

'Harriet,' Gerald called, coming towards her. 'There you are.'

'Did you find anything?' she asked.

'Not a jot, I'm afraid. I see you have company, though,' he said, eyeing off the handsome man and feeling a slight pang of jealousy.

'Miss Harriet and I were discussing ghosts.'

'Ah, you must be from the Russian delegation,' Gerald said, extending a hand.

'Dimitri Romanov,' he introduced himself. Harriet realised only then that she hadn't even had the sense to ask his name.

'Yes, I can see the resemblance,' Gerald replied. 'You could pass for a British monarch as much as a Tsar.'

'Thank you,' Dimitri said, his smile congenial.

'What's your take on all this?'

'In my country, serving staff go missing all the time. They do not blame it on ghosts. Humans are complicated creatures.'

'That we are,' Gerald agreed. 'Still, we've been tasked with a job and we shan’t be allowed to leave until it's sorted.'

'Then I shall not delay you further,' Dimitri replied. He took Harriet's hand and kissed it gently. 'A pleasure to meet you,' he said, before disappearing down the long corridor and out of sight.

'New beau?' Gerald asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

'Shut up,' Harriet replied, feeling foolish.

They spent the remainder of the night wandering the Palace with various pieces of equipment, but there was no sign of anything untoward lurking the halls, which left them feeling frustrated.

'I confess I expected this would be rather easier,' Gerald said, setting down his equipment and a notebook, in which he'd been making observations.

'When has anything ever been easy?' she replied, feeling a weariness in her bones. The train journey had been exhausting and a whole night of searching had her ready to drop.

'I suggest we get some rest and tackle the issue afresh,' he said. 'I believe we've been given rooms. How many people can say that they've had the pleasure of staying at the Palace?'


	7. Chapter 7

Harriet was unpacking her things in the plain but functional suite. She'd brought precious little in the way of clothes, but what she did have would be getting creased folded inside the trunk.

As she shook out a blouse, setting it hanging next to her skirt, she thought longingly about a nice hot bath. Perhaps after she'd had some sleep, though. She ran a hand over the blouse's collar, straightening it as a sound caught her ear. She froze and listened for it, hearing it for just a brief moment, before it disappeared altogether.

She headed for the door, poking her head out into the hallway, but seeing and hearing nothing. The flurry of the entire Palace staff had been half an hour ago as they all rose to begin their day’s duties. Now it was just her. She strode down the hall, headed for the men's apartments, ignoring the fact that technically she wasn't allowed. She asked a young man pushing a trolley for the correct room before rapping on the door.

It caught her by surprise that Gerald answered the door in nothing more than his trousers and a singlet. He'd clearly already been asleep when she'd come knocking.

'What is it, old girl?'

'I heard those noises. Just for a moment.'

'Where?'

'In my room.'

Gerald quickly donned his shirt from the night before and proceeded to follow her back to her own room, picking up a scanner along the way. He traced it carefully around the room.

'It was just like they said, a sort of scratching sound,' Harriet said, describing it to him. 'Like something travelling between the wall cavity itself.'

'And it was only for a moment you say?'

'Just until I turned my head towards it, then it stopped.'

'Well, there's nothing here now.' He tapped the walls with his knuckles, in case it was just a case of upsetting some vermin within the panels. 'Perhaps you imagined it. The weary mind can play tricks on us.'

Harriet bristled at the insinuation. She was certain she'd heard it.

'Get some rest,' Gerald said. 'If you hear any more noises though, come find me.'

It was well after noon when Harriet woke, enjoying the plush feeling of the bedsheets. Even for servant’s quarters, they were very fine. The knocking on her door forced her from the bed, slipping on a coat to cover her nightgown.

At the door was the petite young maid from the day before, her straw coloured hair tucked up into a neat bun beneath her cap.

'Mr Fulstom asked me check if you'd like me to fetch you tea.' She already had a trolley laden with a teapot and plates of pastries.

'Thank you,' Harriet said, letting her wheel the trolley inside.

'I can arrange hot water for a bath as well, if you like, ma'am,' she said, spreading the curtains open, letting in the weak afternoon sunshine.

'That would be divine. It's Ms Quinn, isn't it?'

'Charlotte Quinn, ma'am. But most people call me Lottie.'

'A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Harriet.'

Lottie turned from the window, clasping her hands nervously in front of her. 'Miss Harriet?'

'Yes?'

'I sent one of the baker boys down to Clapham this morning, to ask around about Cece. Her sister lives down there.'

'Cece is Ms Aldershot?'

'Yes, miss. Her sister hasn't seen her.'

'Could she have perhaps run away?'

'I doubt it, miss. She was meeting secretly with some boy in the Palace.'

'A lover?'

'She wouldn't say who, miss, but she was head over heels. And none of the male staff have left so I don't think they eloped or did anything like that. I think the ghost took her, and the other girls. I don't think any of them left here. All her things are still in her room. I checked. And the others.'

Harriet could imagine the types of possessions girls in their position might own. Finer stockings, undergarments and shift dresses than what they could get on the high street, certainly. Small perks like lace collars and moleskin gloves would be treasured items. Even if they chose to leave, things like that would not be left behind willingly. They could be sold if nothing else.

There was another sharp knock on the door. Lottie got up to answer it, finding Gerald standing there. 'Good morning. Or is it afternoon, now?' he said. 'Is Miss Derbyshire fit to see visitors?'

'Miss Derbyshire can answer for herself,' Harriet replied, coming to the door, vexed that he could look so polished and freshly pressed when she was still in her bedclothes.

'I only thought you might relish having staff to attend your every need,' he teased.

'Ms Quinn here was assisting me in our investigation.'

'I've no doubt you've been invaluable, Ms Quinn.'

Lottie flushed under his attention.

'Yes, thank you, Lottie,' Harriet said, seeing the way the young girl went to jelly under Gerald’s gaze.

'I'll have them bring up hot water for you ma'am,' she said, making her leave, forced to squeeze past Gerald.

He strode in and took a seat on the small settee, but not before spotting the tray of pastries and pinching one, munching on it with delight.

Harriet quickly pulled her long hair into a rough braid. 'Don't you even start on that whole "women of a certain disposition" business.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' he replied, unable to wipe the grin from his face. 'What does Ms Quinn have to say?'

She claims that none of the girls who went missing showed any indication that they packed up and chose to leave. Their things are still in their apartments, and the last one to disappear was rumoured to be having dalliances with someone inside the Palace.'

'Do we know who?' he asked, brushing crumbs off his lap.

'Sadly not. I imagine that sort of thing is frowned upon.' Having met their chief of staff Mr Fulstom, she could believe that it might even be banned entirely.

'So, we don't think she alighted with this mystery gentleman.'

'I thought men liked to crow about their conquests,' she replied. If he was allowed to mock women's gossiping nature, she would pay him back in kind.

'Some men are proper gentlemen,' he said. He clearly included himself in that list, and Harriet could hardly deny him. For all his teasing and his charms, he'd never once been inappropriate. Not like Jack, a man without shame. She picked up a pastry and nibbled at it, thinking over what little they knew.

'I suppose that rules out the ghost theory,' Gerald said. He began thinking over the other possibilities: a rift, some object that when activated transported you somewhere else, and of course the obvious, something hiding in the shadows, waiting for prey. There were so many avenues they hadn't yet pursued.

'What are you thinking, Gerald?'

'Only that we need to widen our search.'


	8. Chapter 8

Bathed and dressed, Harriet rejoined Gerald in the state room where he was once again poring over the map of the Palace.

'I had an idea that perhaps the sounds in the wall are a result of pipes,' he said.

'Pipes?' she queried.

'Old pipes. The sort used for gas lighting. Everything here is the latest in modern electric lights, but that wasn't always the case. Something could be using those same pipes to move about the Palace undetected.'

'Wouldn't that have to make it extraordinarily small?'

'Or extraordinarily long. Like a python. I saw one ensnare a human in the jungles once. They can eat a man whole.'

That sounded like a frightening prospect, but also logical. Something slithering through pipes in the walls could account for the sounds she'd heard.

'There could be any number of holes in the old pipes where it could escape the wall cavity,' he added.

'Wouldn't someone have seen a giant snake? Surely if it were to eat a person whole it would be far too big to escape back through the same gap.'

'We're of course assuming it operates like a snake. If it's alien, it could break down its meal much faster than we expect from a snake. All speculation, of course, but something worth looking into. '

'So, we would be looking for entry and exit points.'

'Precisely.'

'Very well.' She consulted the map. 'I'll check all of the south-eastern side, and you can check the north-eastern side.'

He frowned, looking down at the map again. 'I'm not sure we should split up. This creature, if it exists, could be very dangerous.'

'I'll be fine.'

Gerald wanted to argue the point. Harriet was still so young and full of ideals about what the modern woman could be that she wouldn't accept help even when it was offered. 'Take a pistol with you at least,' he said, imploring her to see sense.

'Well, I'm hardly going out there unarmed, am I?' She was already stepping out through the double doors when she nearly bumped straight into Dimitri. His attire today was a palette of muted grey and black, but it made him no less handsome.

'Miss Harriet. I was hoping you would be here. Mr Kneale,' he added, nodding in Gerald's direction.

'Carter Kneale,' Gerald corrected.

'I wanted to ask you if you would like to take a walk with me. I fear that your King and your Prime Minister are busy with war matters, and do not have time to speak with me. I was hoping I might be able to pass the time.'

'So long as you don't mind where we walk,' Harriet replied. 'I have some specific requirements.'

'I am at your mercy, sweet Harriet.'

Harriet smiled, watching the annoyed look of jealousy on Gerald's face. 'See, Gerald,' she said tapping him on the arm. 'I'll be just fine.'

'I trust you slept well and weren't disturbed by ghosts,' Dimitri said as they took off on a slow walk through the Palace halls.

'I don't believe in ghosts,' she replied.

'Neither do I,' he said. 'In my country, there are no stories of ghosts. There is even a joke that Russians say. Why would a Russian want to continue haunting this world if there was a heaven?' He laughed at his own cynicism.

Dimitri occasionally stopped to admire the portraits hanging on the walls, or other times to peer into the gilt and glass cabinets, containing priceless artefacts. Harriet tried to look only for places where an alien entity might be able to move about undetected, but it was hard to ignore the vast array of priceless treasures. She might never get another opportunity to see them, let alone in such auspicious company.

'Look, a relic from my homeland,' Dimitri said, pointing down inside a glass cabinet to show her a deep green egg, etched in fine silver, and encrusted with gems. 'The Faberge eggs have ever been a hallmark of my family, gifts to the great Tsarinas from their husbands. Now they are scattered and collected by people who do not appreciate the craftsmanship that is required. A master jeweler can spend an entire lifetime perfecting the craft.' He looked at it with an air of despondency. 'Would that Russia could be as great as this once more.'

Harriet saw the sadness in his expression. 'Are things in Russia really as bad as they say?'

'Worse,' he replied. 'We tried and failed. We printed too much money, inflation is a disaster, and unemployment and poverty has never been higher. As for the war, the Germans razed our armies on the western lines, forcing us to send in men unarmed, hoping to claim the weapons of fallen comrades. Revolution is ripe. Nicholas' grip on power is failing. Abdication and exile is the best hope for his family now.'

'If the Bolsheviks take power, what happens to the war effort?'

'That I cannot say. My fear though is that Russia turns in on herself. She will leave the world to fight the Germans, and if they should fail, they will come for us next. We will have nothing left to fight them with.'

Harriet completely forgot her search, seeing the desperation of their plight. It was hard enough most days to keep a positive attitude towards the Allies' efforts in the fight against the Germans. None of them could afford to fail in that. 'Is there nothing Nicholas can do to bolster the country?'

'There is probably much he could do, having learnt the lesson of hindsight, but the Bolsheviks are dangerous and single-minded. Staying puts his whole family at risk, the children included.

'A few children versus a whole country,' Harriet mused. 'Not an easy decision to make.'


	9. Chapter 9

Gerald paced up and down the Palace’s corridors, searching rooms and upturning furniture that must have been centuries old. This Russian ambassador was distracting them from the job at hand. He could see that Harriet was clearly taken by him, even if she denied it. Dimitri had more than just a pleasant walk around the Palace, searching for aliens, on his mind.

He couldn't understand why it irked him so much. She was a young girl, even if she had some very serious and academic pursuits. She wasn't one content to simply sit and be a wife to some man. She wanted to be challenged and to push the boundaries of what was acceptable for the woman in her position.

However he couldn't deny that she was still prone to the same infatuations that plagued girls of her age. Jack was an endless flirt, and the pair of them were often caught giggling over something to which he wasn't a party, but then she'd also shown no interest in pursuing anything further with the Captain. A good thing too. Jack was an unknown quantity. Gerald liked him, and Jack had often stood in his corner when he'd had to go into bat for their branch of the Institute with London head office, but there was still a lot no one really knew about him. Harriet was much safer not getting into any sort of relations with the Captain.

He also had to admit that he'd often caught her staring at him just a little longer than was strictly necessary. It wasn't that he didn't fancy her. On the contrary, he tried very hard not to encourage her to think that he had any feelings for her whatsoever, apart from those that were purely professional. He was far too old for her, though. Seventeen years her senior and he almost could have been her father. There was simply no way he could take advantage of her in that way whether she was agreeable to it or not. She deserved a nice young man of her own age who would treat her kindly and make a good husband. Just not this Dimitri fellow, he thought. The man was far too charming, and he knew all about the dangers of charming men.

He was placing a chair back in place when he heard a small yelp. He rushed from the room and found a maid rushing forth from a room further down, pressed back against the wall and looking a fright.

'What is it, my dear?'

'There was something in there!' she cried.

'What? Did you see the ghost?' He didn't know what else to call it for now.

'I don't know. I was polishing the mantle and I could have sworn something grabbed at my skirts.'

Gerald hurried into the room, scanning it with a keen eye. Everything looked in its proper place, though he shifted every last item anywhere near the mantle and the corners of the room, looking for places where the old fittings lead from the interior of the walls, allowing an exit point. Despite his thorough search though, he could find nothing.

'Are you sure you didn't just catch your skirts on some of the furniture, miss...?'

'Delaney,' she replied. 'Miss Delaney. And no. It wasn't like that. It was as I was just turning to leave and something was pulling me back towards the wall. I felt it brush my leg, like it was trying to grab for that, too.'

Gerald let out a vexed sigh. 'Well, there's nothing here now. I shall keep looking, but I suggest you return to your duties, miss.'

'I think they were right,' she said in reply. 'This place isn't safe. We should all leave.'

Gerald stood in the middle of the room and stared around, listening for the faintest of sounds.

'What are you?' he asked. 'Where are you? And what is it that you want?'


	10. Chapter 10

'Did you enjoy your afternoon with Dimitri?' Gerald asked, finding Harriet in the state room, packing away some of her equipment.

Harriet frowned at him. 'I was working, Gerald. Dimitri accompanied me for a short while, but I think I may have bored him with my insistence that I really needed to be searching in earnest.'

It had eaten her up to have to send him away. She could hardly tell him that they were searching for places an alien might be able to obtain access to the Palace in order to attack people. It seemed the young man had quite enough on his plate to deal with as it was. And then there was the whole business of having to keep Torchwood a secret. She'd only known him a day, and despite how kind and lovely he'd been, the safety of the Crown and the Empire was of a greater importance than anything else. Gerald's slight jealousy at the attention Dimitri was paying her pleased her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

'Ours is not to meddle in the affairs of global politics,' Gerald wanted her.

'I'm not meddling,' Harriet replied, slightly annoyed at him. 'We had a conversation, that's all.'

'Britain's situation with the Russians is... difficult,' Gerald said. Even that was probably an understatement. 'We need them to hold themselves together, else the whole Eastern front collapses.'

'Blasted war,' Harriet muttered. Life had been so much better before the Germans had decided to upset the proverbial apple cart.

'Blasted indeed, my dear,' Gerald agreed. 'But it's what we're faced with, whether we like it or not. Ours is to provide a vital role to the Empire against the forces that seek to destroy us.'

'You fought in the war?' Harriet asked. 'Or were you only military intelligence?' She couldn't recall any conflicts that he would have been of age to be involved in. He would have been a child during the first Boer War, and the second was only just beginning when he'd joined Torchwood. Perhaps that had been where they'd discovered his talents. Or perhaps there been some other conflict she wasn't privy to.

'Every commander must face his share of battle,' he replied. 'Only by knowing the suffering of the men at the front can we direct their efforts.' He looked haunted by something as he said it.

'Is that what you did to Jack?' she asked, intensely curious. 'Directed his efforts?' She wasn't as stupid as Gerald thought. Jack wasn't on some intelligence mission, or perhaps he was, but she also knew that the reason they'd not heard from him for so long was because he was somewhere at the front. It was all in their parting words. 'I go where I'm needed,' he'd said. There was no smart comment attached to it, or a laugh and a smile. It was the expression a man wore when he knew that he would be long from home, forced to endure bitter conditions and heartache.

'Jack may seem a wayward troublemaker, but he knows his duty.'

'Is he even alive?'

Gerald sighed. 'Only God knows the answer to that question.' He could tell his words had done nothing to reassure her. 'Come along. I know we've searched the apartments high and low, but perhaps a wander though the lesser occupied parts of the Palace might reveal something new.'

There was a sound of weeping that caught their attention as they passed along one of the corridors that ran through the serving ladies apartments to the other side of the Palace. When Harriet politely knocked, it was Ms Quinn who answered the door.

'Miss Harriet,' she said, quickly trying to wipe the tears from her eyes.

'Whatever are you crying for?'

'It's all gone terribly wrong,' she sniffled between sobs. 'Mr Fulstom has had me dismissed for spreading rumours about the ghosts.'

'Well, you surely aren't the only one.'

'You don't understand! They took Dean.'

'Dean?'

'Morrison. He works as a butler. He...' She was unable to finish the sentence, a fresh set of tears trickling down her face.

'Has he gone missing?' Gerald interrupted.

She nodded. 'I tried to tell Mr Fulstom but he wouldn't listen. He called me a stupid girl and when I stood up to him, he dismissed me.'

'How do you know he's gone?' Harriet said. 'He could be out on an errand.'

'No,' she shook her head, taking the handkerchief Harriet offered her. 'He asked me to meet him in the library for mid-afternoon break. Only he wasn't here. I waited my whole break, but he never showed up.'

'Do you have any reason to believe he wouldn't show?' Gerald asked. It wouldn't be the first time a young man had broken a promise and in turn broken a heart.

'None,' she said. He... we...'

'You were having a relationship,' Gerald finished for her, trying not to pass judgment on the fact that such things were frowned upon in the Palace, though he had no doubt Ms Quinn wasn't alone in her dalliances with male members of staff. The poor girl was half distraught over the loss of her employment, but more over the loss of her beau.

Harriet gave her a reassuring touch. 'We'll speak with Mr Fulstom on your behalf, Lottie.'

'Thank you, miss.'

'Was there anyone else in the library prior to your agreed meeting?'

She nodded. 'The Russian ambassador was having a meeting with the King and the Minister. Dean was there to serve drinks and clear up afterwards.'

'We will investigate, rest assured,' Gerald said, adding a placating arm to her shoulder. 'For now I suggest you return to the kitchens.'

Lottie shook her head. 'I can't go back down there. Mr Fulstom...'

'Please, Ms Quinn. I must insist that you not travel the halls on your own. It's for your safety. Go nowhere without company, is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.' She bowed and made her leave, rushing the whole way.

'Poor thing,' Harriet said.

'How strange, though,' Gerald mused. 'I had begun to think it was limited to the ladies. The young man however...'

'All those people in there, yet it waited until he was alone,' Harriet said, thinking out loud.

'I think that tells us more about it than what we know already. It's not strong enough to take on more than one victim at a time. That gives us an advantage.'

'How so?'

'Because there's two of us.'


	11. Chapter 11

The library looked completely untoward at first glance. For Harriet though, it was a marvel to have so many fine volumes, most first edition and incredibly rare, all located in one luxurious setting. On the premise of searching the wall fittings for places where a creature might be able to enter or exit, she perused the titles, finding many prestigious works, from Einstein to Marie Curie, J. J. Thompson, Pasteur, Kelvin, Guthrie and Mendeleev. A volume penned by Ernest Rutherford caught her eye and she couldn't help but pull it from the shelf. His studies on the atomic nucleus fascinated her. She ran a hand over the cover, opening it ever so carefully to view the fine print inside.

'Sort out this mystery and I might be able to convince His Majesty to allow you and afternoon to peruse his collection properly,' Gerald promised, catching her out.

An afternoon? She'd need a month! There were far too many titles to select just one.

'No signs of a struggle,' Gerald muttered. 'Not so much as a crystal tumbler out of place. Doesn't that strike you as odd?'

She carefully slid the book back into its rightful place. 'Because a man would fight back against his assailant?' she said, trying not to sound too arrogant. If it were her, she’d fight like hell.

'An element of surprise is at work here.'

'Oh, my apologies,' came a voice from the doorway. Harriet turned to see Dimitri. 'I had thought everyone had left. I was hoping to spend some time enjoying the collection.'

'They had,' Gerald replied. 'But I would not advise spending the evening here. It may well be that our ghost has struck again, right here in this very room.'

'That is troubling news, though rumours of it had reached me,' Dimitri replied. 'I was asked also to pass on a message, however. His Majesty the King would like to speak with you over this latest news.'

Mr Fulstom, Harriet knew. Whilst he might be quick to quash the claims of staff, he wasn't so fool as to not keep the household informed.

Gerald cringed, knowing it would not be a pleasant exchange. 'Of course.'

'Miss Derbyshire,' Dimitri said, turning his attention to her. 'I understand you must be very busy with this matter, but a lady must eat. I would be pleased if you would dine with me this evening.'

She gave a quick glance in Gerald's direction, knowing it was wrong to say yes, given everything, but nor did she want to upset him. 'A short meal perhaps,' she replied.

'I cannot speak to the kitchens. They have a habit of serving ten courses.'

'Harriet,' Gerald said, interrupting. 'I believe the King is waiting on us when it is we who should be waiting on him.'

'Of course,' she said, feeling chastised. 'I will see what we can do,' she said, replying this time to Dimitri.


	12. Chapter 12

'Good heavens, Gerald,' the King muttered as they were admitted to the Blue Drawing Room. 'Is it true? Another person gone missing? May is up in arms.'

'One of your staff was quite certain that the young man has disappeared, Your Highness. We believe she has no reason to lie.'

'Christ, man. I cannot have staff disappearing. What if it were one of the court's ladies? That would be disastrous.'

'I assure you we are running as thorough an investigation as we can.'

'For now, might we suggest that people not occupy spaces on their own?' Harriet asked. The King gave her an odd look. 'We have a working theory that it is only capable of attacking a person in isolation.'

George looked thoroughly displeased by the suggestion. 'Would you like the entire Palace to convene together like rats in a bomb shelter?' Harriet shut her mouth, knowing she had probably spoken out of turn.

'We are merely asking you to consider the safety of the staff and residents for the time being,' Gerald said, attempting to smooth things over. 'It is only a preventative measure. The cause will be found.'

'It had better be. Stop the rot, Gerald. That's an order from your King. You do your job and I'll do mine.'

Walking out of the room, Harriet had a head full of steam at the dismissal they'd been given.

'What are we doing Gerald? There's only two of us to monitor the entire Palace against God only knows what.'

'And one who's too busy being wooed by that Russian princeling.'

Harriet drew to a halt right there in the hallway. 'Excuse me?'

'You can hardly deny that you've been distracted by the man,' Gerald said, no longer sugar-coating the matter. 'I've come to expect more from you.'

Harriet stood there absolutely flabbergasted. 'I can't believe that you would even imply...'

'You are young, albeit very clever for your age. It's only natural that you should-'

She stepped up to him, coming almost to his face. 'Not another word. Not one. A fine thing that it's alright for you to flirt with women! Quite a different matter when the shoe is on the other foot.'

'I do not flirt!'

'Not all the time. Not when you just choose to be patronising. I might even go so far as to say you feel threatened by Dimitri.'

'Now, see here,' Gerald said, turning red in the face. 'You are quite out of order. As your Commander, I-'

'This has nothing to do with you, or your so called command and you know it! I'd ask you to stay out of my personal business, but I doubt you know how.'

She stormed off, not caring that there was still a job to do. For now she didn't want him anywhere near her.


	13. Chapter 13

Gerald regretted the words almost immediately. He had wrongly taken out his frustration on her at being talked down to by the King as they had been. Now he was forced to watch as Harriet took off down the hallway, ostensibly toward the room she been given, or perhaps he thought, straight into the arms of her Romanov love interest.

No, he needed to stop thinking like that. He had no right to be jealous. He'd had a dozen opportunities or more to express an interest in his fellow Torchwood agent. Jack taunted him endlessly, though Gerald treated it as banter. 'Not too many girls out there like her,' he'd say, and he'd be right. She was a decade ahead of her time, or more perhaps, with an intelligence that frightened most men. Hardly a wonder they wouldn't issue her with the university accolades she'd rightly earned. Her intimate knowledge of physics and chemistry were invaluable resources for Torchwood to have at its disposal. Her research into the rift could finally put to rest the controversy that had waged between Cardiff and London for years.

'Why do you do this to me, old girl?' he sighed. He needed to apologise, but he knew that she'd be in a temper for a while yet. Better to wait out the worst of it. A pity they didn't have the time to wait.

The situation was escalating and they were still faced with a complete mystery. He'd been working for Torchwood for nearly twenty years and had seen a great deal in that time, but nothing from his collective experiences could help him solve this particular puzzle. When it had just been female victims he'd callously assumed that they would have time to sort it out. Knowing now that the entity was indiscriminate changed the whole complexion of things. They were truly faced with the unknown. No one was safe, not even the King himself. Or his Queen, he realised ashamedly.

Slumped in the baroque style chair in the hallway, he hadn't even noticed the middle aged, serving man standing in front of him.

'Can I get you anything, sir? A drink, perhaps?'

He waved the man away, before stopping him. 'Actually, there is something. I need you to get a telegram to someone. A Captain Jack Harkness. He's with the British armed forces. His immediate return to Britain is requested.'

'And where is Captain Harkness posted, sir?'

Gerald frowned, he hadn't heard a word for weeks now. France, somewhere, presumably. The man couldn't die, but that only left open the possibility that he could be anywhere. 'Try the regiment at Ypres.' Knowing Jack, he'd be right at the heart of battle.


	14. Chapter 14

Harriet tucked her stockinged feet underneath her as she perched on the edge of the bed, staring out through the darkened window that overlooked the grand central courtyard. She'd already sent a note telling Dimitri that she wouldn't be able to have dinner with him. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but it was the principle of the thing, and she didn't want to prove Gerald correct that she was more focused on some man rather than their case. If that meant going without, then so be it. She didn't think she'd be much company in any case. Gerald's words had only made her angry and she didn't want that resentment turning in on itself, being directed towards someone else, especially not Dimitri who'd been nothing but kind to her.

There was a timid knock at the door. She knew instinctively it wasn't the knock of a Torchwood agent.

'Oh, it's you,' she said, opening the door and seeing Lottie standing there with a tray. 'I thought the staff had been instructed not to move around on their own?'

'You're on your own, miss. Now we're not.'

Harriet forced a smile at the clever comment. 'Quite right.'

'I thought you might require some refreshment since you weren't attending dinner.'

'Dimitri told you that?'

'I was only told you might be hungry, miss.'

Of course. How silly of her to think that a Russian noble might converse with the common household staff, though the instruction was unmistakably his. 'Thank you,' she said, letting the woman inside. 'I see that your position has been reinstated.'

'Yes, miss. I believe the Mr Kneale put in a good word for me with Mr Fulstom. He was very kind to do so, miss.'

'Yes, he was,' she agreed, wondering if Gerald had ulterior motives when he'd done so. 'And how are you? I imagine this all must be quite upsetting still.'

Lottie tried to put on a brave face, but Harriet could tell it was for her benefit only. 'It's silly, miss, but we had big plans, Dean and I. A few more years here, and then we'd have enough saved for a country house. He wanted to be a farmer, miss.'

'A butler with aspirations to be a farmer?'

'Sounds crazy, doesn't it, miss? But he came from a farmer's background and said he much preferred the feeling of dirt between his fingers than a cleaner’s cloth. Always thought London was too big and too dirty.'

Harriet had to agree. Having grown up in the country herself, she appreciated the fresh air and the greenery. Cardiff was quite big enough for her, these days.

'We will find out what is going on here, my dear Ms Quinn,' she said, reaching out and hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 'I don't hold out hope that we can get Dean back for you, but there's always a very small chance.'

'Thank you, Miss Harriet. You're not like the other ladies, if you don't mind my saying so.'

'Not the first time it's been said,' she remarked, a little laugh accompanying it. Why was it so wrong for a woman to aspire to be more that a scullery maid or a seamstress? 'What did you want to be when you were a child, Lottie?'

'Me, miss? I never really thought about it.'

'You must have had some ideas, surely.'

She paused to think about this. 'Marry well, raise a family, be a good wife, I suppose.' All the things Harriet herself had railed against.

'No aspirations to be a famous actress?'

'Gosh, no. I could never do that.'

And there was the problem, Harriet thought. Girls weren't even dreaming big.


	15. Chapter 15

After having spoken with staff and returning to his room, Gerald felt ill at ease. He'd taken to moving their equipment into his own room, tinkering with some of them to try and see if there were any strange readings. Now that he was on his own, he hoped that whatever it was, it might feel tempted to come after him, in which case he wanted to be ready for it. Knowing that Jack may be on the first troop train back to Britain was also helpful, assuming the message reached him and that he could get here in time. Knowing Jack, he'd smuggle his way back into the country if he had to. Twenty four hours and he might be banging on the Palace gates. They could certainly do with the backup.

He reluctantly settled into the hard-backed chair in front of the plain wooden desk, pondering their next move when there was a banging in the walls and a vase behind him went tumbling off the mantle, smashing in half and setting the floral arrangement across the floor. Immediately he reached for his gun, swinging it in the direction of the sound.

'Who's there? Show yourself.' There was more rustling, this time from the wall behind him. He spun to face it, drawing back the safety on his revolver. 'I represent the Torchwood Institute and your presence here is a direct violation of the protected status of this planet in accordance with Shadow Proclamation law.'

He wasn't entirely sure what that really meant, but it was what Jack had suggested he say when confronted with any form of semi or fully sentient alien life. He'd asked on any number of occasions who this Proclamation organisation were and their purpose. All Jack would say was that the world wasn't ready to know yet, and that diplomatic relations with the Unified Conglomerate would not occur for at least another hundred years. All he had to know for now what that low level sentient planets like Earth were afforded certain protections, and that any alien worth their salt was well aware of that fact. If they thought that Earthlings had no awareness of this though, they would take full advantage of it.

The noise stopped for a moment, and then started up again closer to the door this time, before it seemed the entity had moved from the walls of the room and out into the hall. Gerald pursued it, following the sound as it rattled about, down passages and through several rooms, leading him on a lengthy pursuit. He was finally down in one of the Palace's wine cellars when the noise came to a halt. Perhaps it had been hiding down here, in the darkness and solitude of the cellar. Gerald stood stock still, desperately listening out for its next move when the door behind him clanked shut. He raced for it, tugging at the heavy metal latch but finding it firmly locked, sealing him inside.

Bollocks! He banged on the thick wooden door, but like any good cellar it was very finely made and built to withstand a great deal. 'Let me out!' he yelled, continuing to beat against the door. 'Face me you cowardly thing!'

There was nothing more after that, leaving him there alone. At least it didn't appear to be in here with him, though now it also meant there was no way of him getting out. He pounded his fists against the door, calling out, trying to attract attention but knowing it was unlikely anyone would find him down here for some time.

'Mr Kneale?' came a voice from the other side of the door. 'Is that you?'

'Yes! Please let me out!' The door latched clinked and was pulled open from the outside, revealing the petite blonde.

'Ms Quinn. Whatever are you doing down here? Did you see it?'

'See what?'

'The creature.'

'No, I didn't see anything.'

Gerald gathered himself, though keeping a firm grip on his revolver. 'It was down here,' he said. 'But that still doesn't explain why you are here.'

'I had to know what was going on,' she said. 'I was wandering the Palace when I heard the awful noise coming from the cellar. I thought it must have been the ghost. I was going to run straight for help. It wasn't until I heard your voice that I knew it wasn't the ghost.'

'That was very brave of you to be wandering alone. It could have attacked you.'

'I know. But something Miss Harriet said. I wanted to be more like her and not be afraid of doing what I want.' She stood a little taller. 'I want to know what took all those people so we can stop it.'

'Well, I'm very glad you did but I fear that this may have been a distraction.'

'What do you mean, sir?'

'The creature, ghost as you call it, could have easily dispensed with me in the same way as all the others. Instead it lured me down here to keep me out of the way.'

'Out of the way of what? What was it you planned on doing?'

Indeed, what had he been planning? To sit there and stratagise, and then to go and apologise to Harriet for being such a prig. That's when it hit him. Harriet. 'Come on,' he said, grabbing her hand.

'Where are we going?'

'To stop this thing from attacking again.'


	16. Chapter 16

In her room, Harriet was readying herself to turn in for the night. Sat in front of the meagre dressing table she began brushing out her long golden hair, fighting the tangles in the mirror's reflection. The curls infuriated her and all the time her mother had spent fussing over them when she would have preferred plain straight hair. Tying it back was the only solution to keeping it out of the way. Unhindered, it was a complete nuisance.

'Miss Derbyshire?' She nearly dropped the hairbrush at the unexpected sound. It took her a moment to register the voice as Dimitri. She hadn't heard him knock, nor come in. It was a little presumptuous, just coming in unannounced. She was hardly going to turn him away, though.

'You startled me.'

'Again,' he said, adding a meek smile. 'I do apologise, but I could not find it in me to eat alone tonight. I had sincerely hoped you would join me.'

She gently set the brush down on the dresser, noting how at odds it was, lying there right next to her pistol. She wasn't fool enough to think that she was safe in her room on her own. If anything came for her tonight, she'd be ready for it. 'I'm very sorry, Dimitri. Today has been hellish. I was rather looking forward to a quiet night,' she said, if such a thing were even possible, given her position here.

'I understand,' he replied. 'I only thought to bring you this,' he said, holding out something small and square, 'since you took such an interest earlier.'

She took the object from his hands, seeing the Ernest Rutherford first edition she spotted in the library earlier that afternoon. How had he known that she'd taken an interest in this particular volume? Hadn't she put it away before he'd come to give them his message?

'I fear the finer details are well beyond my knowledge,' he confessed. 'Perhaps you might explain them to me. Science is not considered a proper subject matter for Russian nobility.'

'I'm sure you understand more than you think,' she said, trying to inflate his ego.

'In some things, perhaps.' His look was one of mixed curiosity and sadness. 'If you solve the mystery, then you will have to return to Wales, yes?'

'Yes,' she said, knowing it was silly to think that they could continue to court. Not only would she have to return to Wales, but Dimitri might yet have to return to Russia, all depending on whether the King agreed to grant their family asylum.

Dimitri cast a look around the room. 'A pity. I would like very much for you to stay here with me.' He pulled her close, enveloping her in a kiss.

It was all that she'd expected and more from the quietly passionate man, letting herself be drawn across the room in his embrace, trying to make the kiss last as long as possible. He backed them up against the wall so that he could get a better purchase, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her close against his body. She could feel the how warm his body was, pressed so close to him. She slipped her arms around his neck, knowing it was wrong to kiss him but not caring. It was just for tonight, and could never be more, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

There was a knock at her door. 'Harriet? May I please come in? I apologise for my outburst earlier but I have urgent news.'

Rather than pull away, Dimitri pulled her closer. It wasn't until she broke off their kiss that she noticed he was beginning to draw himself into the wall, as if it were made of water rather than solid wainscoting. As she watched on, she realised he was pulling her with him, right into the wall itself. To her horror, she had discovered the creature that had been taking people and making strange sounds within the walls was the man trying to take her now. She struggled against him, but his grip was firm and she could already feel part of her being absorbed into the wall along with him. What happened then she didn't want to think about.

'Gerald!' she screamed.

He burst through the door gun raised as she continued to fight off Dimitri. 'Unhand her!' he cried, taking a well-aimed shot, clipping Dimitri's shoulder as it protruded from the wall.

The shot was enough for Dimitri to momentarily loosen his grip on Harriet, enough for her to pull out of his arms and back away from the wall.

Dimitri hunched over on the ground, one hand gripping the injured and bleeding shoulder in pain. He looked up and hissed at Gerald who still had his gun trained on the man.

'You've taken your last victim, Dimitri,' he said, still trying to process his own revelation that the thing they'd been searching for was in fact a man, or at least something capable of appearing human.

Incensed, Dimitri suddenly lunged up from his crouched position, just inches away from attacking Gerald when a second shot hit him in the thigh, taking his legs out from under him, causing him to crumple uselessly to the floor. Gerald spun to find Harriet right behind him, her own gun raised, a tiny tendril of smoke rising from its barrel. Her expression was furious as she held it two-handed, ready to shoot again if necessary.

'You're mine!' Dimitri cried, whipping around to snarl at Harriet.

'Incorrect,' Gerald replied. 'She's Torchwood.' He turned and gave her a brief smile, which she returned.

'Gerald,' she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. 'Be a dear and fetch those handcuffs and chains, will you?'


	17. Chapter 17

He returned in short order, snapping the high tech shackles to Dimitri, effectively preventing him from making any sort of meaningful movement. Once done, a tourniquet was applied to the gunshot wound in his leg, tight enough that he wouldn't bleed to death on them, but not so tight that he wouldn't feel some residual pain. Whilst he was doing that, Harriet noticed the small woman who had been standing in the corner the whole time, watching events.

'Lottie, you shouldn't be here,' Harriet said. She feared it would all be too much for the young girl.

'Did he really take those people, into the wall?' Lottie asked.

'It would seem so. But the better question is what you are doing here?'

'Ms Quinn was being very brave and trusting her instincts,' Gerald replied, rejoining them. 'Had it not been for her, I fear I wouldn't have been much use to you.'

Harriet saw how much it was tearing Gerald up to know that he might not have gotten here in time to help her. 'Then I'm most grateful indeed,' Harriet said, grabbing Lottie by the arms and giving her a small hug.

'It was you who lead me on that wild goose chase,' Gerald said, turning back to Dimitri, now kneeling on the floor, chained and bound. 'Then once you had me where you wanted, you reformed into human shape and locked the door.'

'You should have stayed there,' Dimitri replied.

'I would have, believe me. Had it not been for Ms Quinn, you might have gotten away with it. Perhaps you intended on coming back for me once you were done here.'

Dimitri spat at his feet. 'You are too old and tough. I would rather have eaten nothing.'

'You... ate them?' Harriet asked, confounded by the admission.

'They were food. Nothing more.'

'Why?' Gerald demanded. 'Surely there were other things you could eat?'

'I needed fresh meat. That filth they serve from the kitchens is hours old at best, and then they cook it, ruining it completely. I can't even stomach it. I would have starved.'

Gerald frowned disparagingly. 'I highly doubt that. If you had any decency at all you would have gone without. Are you even Dimitri at all, or just a creature using his appearance?'

'I am who I've always been. I tried to spare you,' Dimitri replied, angry, 'but you British are so infuriatingly slow. These negotiations were meant to be concluded within a few days, but they kept delaying, blaming it on the war. Don't you realise there's a bigger war about to happen?'

'Are you implying that these deaths are our fault? Because you couldn't contain your urges?'

'Yes. I wasn't allowed to leave the Palace gates. I could have gone out into the city and taken anyone. Instead I made do first with the rats, but then they were gone too. I was so hungry. That first serving girl,' he paused and remembered it, a little smile creeping across his face. 'She was so delicious. So young and tender. After that, I couldn't stop.'

'What would you have done when you returned to Russia?' Harriet asked.

Dimitri's eyes lit up. 'I would have feasted. We would have had a great banquet regardless of the outcome, just like we always do.'

Gerald's expression turned serious. 'Are you saying Nicholas is aware of your condition?'

Dimitri laughed. 'It is not a condition. It is what it means to be Romanov!'

'Dear God, it's all of you?' Harriet cried.

'Where do you get your feast from?' Gerald asked, folding his arms.

'So much poverty in Russia. They are lining up at the Palace gates, beginning for food and work. Hundreds and thousands of them. Who will miss the few hundred beggars?'

'And as your family grows, so too does the need for more food,' Gerald said. 'The Bolsheviks are threatening that. What better idea than to escape to Britain where you would be safe.'

'I have seen the poverty in London, too. Don't deny that the whores and the mud larks offend the gentry. We would take them.'

'And when the poor were gone, then the middle classes?' Harriet presumed. She felt horrified that she had been so taken in by his good looks and charms. He was nothing more than a parasite.

'There are always those that won't be missed,' he replied, cold and without remorse of any kind.

'Those are your people,' Harriet said. 'What happened to the greater good of the Motherland?'

'Your people,' Dimitri said. 'Not mine. The Romanivka will live on long after you humans are gone.'

'Right, well I think we've heard enough, don't you?' Gerald said, looking back at Harriet.

'Quite,' she said, thinking that the less she saw of this man from here on in, the better.


	18. Chapter 18

Though it was getting late, Gerald insisted on an audience with His Majesty to report their discovery, if for no other reason than to put the Palace's residents at ease. He didn't think anyone would be sleeping, knowing that there were strange beings prowling the halls and things going bump in the night.

'What's the upshot, then?' the King asked. 'You found whatever it is?'

'We did. Your Russian ambassador is in actual fact an alien of a kind that likes to consume living beings as a food source.'

'Good God, Gerald. The Tsar's ambassador? Are you serious?'

'Very much so. Unfortunately it does mean that we are unable to do anything more in relation to the victims that went missing.'

'Bloody shame, that,' he muttered. 'Still, nothing compared to our boys dying on the fields in France, is it?'

Harriet couldn't help but pull a face at the callous remark. Just because they hadn't been fighting at the front didn't make them any less valuable as British citizens.

'What now, then?' the King asked. 'I assume you've got this thing locked up somewhere?'

'Dimitri is being extradited back to Russia as we speak. We've arranged secure transport for him so that he can't harm anyone else.' What Gerald meant was that he'd been sedated to within an inch of his life and was being shipped back in a cargo crate, to be delivered to the very gates of the Palaces he so enjoyed to wander, selecting their next meal. 'All talks of Russian asylum can be put on ice,' Gerald reported.

'What are you talking about, Gerald? David's already got MI1 working on a strategy to get the Romanovs out of Russia.'

'You can't let them leave Russia, Your Majesty,' Harriet said.

'I'm supposed to let the Bolsheviks just do with them what they like?'

'That would be for the best,' Gerald agreed. Harriet looked across at him. For just a moment she saw the military man and not the Torchwood leader. Leaving them for the Bolsheviks would be condemning them to death. Although she could see that it would be politically sound to have them disposed of on Russian soil rather than British. Either way, they couldn't be allowed to survive. There was no prison that could hold them, given what they were, and no way to keep them fed. There was no way Britain could impose any sort of sanctions on the Russian Tsars, denouncing what they were doing, if for no other reason than because they couldn't reveal to the world that Russia was being ruled by aliens. They'd already tried negotiating with Dimitri, but on that one thing he wouldn't concede. It was human flesh or nothing.

'The Tsars have ruled Russia for generations!' the King exclaimed. 'Are they all aliens? Our mothers were sisters!'

'The paternal line, it appears so yes,' Gerald confirmed. Hard to imagine that had things turned out differently, their own King of England might have been an alien.

'Bloody Christ,' he muttered, sitting down. 'You've thrown me into a political nightmare. If I back out now, the Russians will crucify me.'

'I appreciate that this is a difficult situation, Your Highness, but they cannot be allowed to come here. Their population may be small now, but with a plentiful food supply, we could be overrun.'

The King seemed to ponder this for a moment, tugging on his moustache. 'I'll blame it on Lloyd George,' he replied. 'This was all his bloody idea to bring them over. I'll tell them he opposed their extradition. I might be King but I still have to put up with those insufferable naysayers in parliament.'

'Your Majesty?' Gerald said, raising an eyebrow. Was he really suggesting throwing their Prime Minister to the wolves over this?

'Prime Ministers are expendable. Kings are not. Politicians are used to being disliked for their decisions and known for switching their allegiances. It's for the good of the Empire.'

'Of course, Your Majesty,' Gerald said, giving him a small bow.

'Right, well back to Cardiff for you in the morning,' he said, wiping his hands of the matter. 'I'll make sure to pass on my gratitude to your London branch.'

The pair of them made their courtesies and left.

'Miss Harriet?' came a call from behind them as they returned to the residences.

'Lottie. Haven't you had enough excitement for one night? You should be in bed.' After all the excitement of the past twenty four hours, Harriet was more than ready for a good night's sleep.

'I just came by the say thank you.'

'I think your job should be secure now,' Gerald said.

'Oh, I told Mr Fulstom I don't want my old job back. I thought I might take your advice and see what else is out there.'

Harriet frowned in surprise. 'What will you do?'

'I don't know. But I know I'll regret it if I don't try.'

Harriet smiled at her. 'Then I wish you all the best.'


	19. Chapter 19

'What's going on guys?'Jack said, making his presence known as he waltzed into the hub two days later. He dumped his duffel bag on the floor, just inside the doorway of Gerald's office, where the pair of them were quietly discussing something. 'I went like a bat out of hell to get to London only to find you'd already come back here. Where's the fire? You did say it was urgent.'

'I'm rather pleased you're here at all,' Gerald said, tapping his handful of papers on the desk to straighten them into a neat pile, before slipping them into a manila folder and into his secure filing cabinet. 'A little communication wouldn't have gone astray. We haven't heard from you for weeks.'

Jack just shrugged. 'It's a war zone out there. Things get a little crazy. Not like I can tweet you updates.' He leant against the doorway, arms casually folded. 'So, what's the story?'

'Just a little case where we thought we might require your extensive knowledge and expertise.'

That piqued his interest. 'What kind of case?'

'A family of aliens called the Romanivka that can pass through solid matter and pass themselves off as appearing human. One was occupying Buckingham Palace and picking off residents one by one, consuming them for sustenance. It's since been dealt with and returned to its country of origin where it is likely to come to a rather sticky end.'

'Cool,' Jack said. 'Never seen one of those before. And you say there's a whole bunch of them?'

'Not for much longer, I shouldn't think,' Gerald replied. 'As you say, there's a war going on. I expect there'll be a few casualties.'

'Probably for the best,' he agreed. 'Eating people is generally frowned upon. A nibble here and there is okay, even a swallow in the right circumstances, but,'

'Don't make me send you straight back,' Gerald warned. There was only so much of Jack's innuendo and inappropriate comments he could stomach.

Jack threw his hands up in surrender. 'Sorry. Keep forgetting how conservative you guys are. Gods but the sixties can't get here quick enough.'

'I never understand a half of what you say, Jack,' Harriet said. 'You'll be an old man by then, assuming you're still alive. What will that make you, eighty at least?'

Jack gave her one of his winning smiles. 'Don't you worry about me, Harriet. I'll still be partying with the best of them for years to come. Now, since you don't seem to need me, I have a date with a hot bath.'

'Rough journey home?' Harriet asked. 'I thought cleanliness was being made a priority by the British forces, to ensure that the men didn't contract disease.'

'Oh, it is. I met my date on the train back. He just so happens to be on leave in Cardiff for a few days, and he has a really big bathtub. Big enough for two. And I'm feeling very, very dirty. I might need someone to join me to scrub my back.' He gave her a wink before grabbing his duffel and heading straight back out. 'See ya in a few days,' he said, tipping them a salute. It was all she could do just to shake her head at his retreating outline.

'Looks like it's just us again, Gerald,' she said, setting her hands on her hips. She gave him a smile, glad to have another adventure done and dusted.

He smiled back. 'I couldn't think of company I'd prefer more.'


End file.
